


Que Sera, Sera

by SaberAltered



Series: Que Sera, Sera [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: I suck at writing summaries, Multi, also the first chapter is dialogue heavy, and Cheyenne is a good girl, just getting that out there right now, she must be protected at all costs, tags will be added as we go along, the courier is wasteland Michael Bay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaberAltered/pseuds/SaberAltered
Summary: After waking up in Goodsprings, the courier sets out to exact revenge on the pompous jackass who shot her, discovering bits and pieces about her past along the way.And there's explosions too.





	1. Ain't That a Kick In the Head?

**Author's Note:**

> It's September! I promised I would start uploading this fic in September, so here we go.
> 
> I'm not the fastest updater, so please remain patient with me.
> 
> Honestly, I am still not 100% satisfied with this chapter, so if there is anything I could do to make it better, then please let me know!

The first thing I see after the bullet is a ceiling fan. Of course, my vision swims, so it takes me a minute to decipher it as a ceiling fan.

"You're awake. How about that?" An older man says.

My head is throbbing; the next thing I see is the asshole in that tacky checkered suit pointing the gun at me, telling me _the game was rigged from the start_ , and firing.

_Mierda._

I don't recall how I ended up in that position, or even what the fuck it was I was supposed to deliver. All I know is that feeling in my gut, the one that says _these bastards need to die_.

Before I know it, I scramble up, and gentle hands help steady me.

"Whoa, easy there, easy. You've been out cold there for a couple days now. Why don't you relax a second, get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is. How about your name? Can you tell me your name?"

I think it over, trying to conjure up anything, but I end up drawing blanks.

"I... I don't remember my name."

"Well, that's a pity. I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings. Now, I hope you don't mind, I had to go rootin' there in your noggin to pull all the bits of lead out. I take pride in my needlework, but you'd better tell me if I left anything out of place."

He bends down, produces a mirror from the side of the bed, and hands it to me.

I look fairly normal, except for the stitched-up scars on my forehead. I stare into two wide, black eyes before observing the black tangled mess that is my hair. Thankfully it doesn't reach past my shoulders, so I run a hand through it to try and get it looking somewhat presentable.

"How'd I do?" Doc Mitchell asks, effectively snapping me out of my reverie.

"Nothing looks out of place." I respond, turning his mirror back over to him.

"Well, I got most of it right anyway. Stuff that mattered." He says, tucking the mirror away before getting out of his chair. "Okay. No sense of keeping you in bed anymore. Now, let's see if we can get you on your feet."

Even with his help, I sway on my feet. I don't fall, though, so I'll take that as a victory.

"Good. Why don't you walk down to the end of the room?"

Immediately, I take one step, and almost faceplant onto the floor. Fortunately, Doc Mitchell is there to steady me.

"Take it slow, now. This ain't a race." He reminds me, slowly taking his hands off of me. He makes his way to the doorframe on the other side of the room, leaving me to figure this out myself. _Challenge accepted_.

I slowly put one foot in front of the other, picking up speed as I get back into the swing of it.

Doc Mitchell leads me into his living room, and has me take the couch. He gathers a book, some papers, and a pen, before settling in the chair across from me.

"All right. I'm going to say a word. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind."

I nod.

"Dog."

"Feed."

"House."

"Shelter."

"Night."

"Dream."

"Bandit."

"Swiss Cheese."

"Light."

"Flash."

"Mother."

My stomach twists.

"Regret."

"Okay. Now I've got a few statements. I want you to tell me how much they sound like something you'd say."

I nod again.

"First one. 'Conflict just ain't in my nature.'"

For some reason, the first thing that comes to mind is a vague memory. Someone is pulling me off of someone else, and in my mind's eye I see blood on my hands.

"Strongly Disagree."

"'I ain't given to rely on someone for support.'"

"Agree."

"'I'm always fixing to be the center of attention.'"

"Disagree." From what little I remember, I've never benefited from attention. In fact, it seems to be what gets me into trouble.

"'I'm slow to embrace new ideas.'"

"Disagree."

"'I charge in to deal with my problems head on.'"

I chuckle. "Strongly agree."

Doc Mitchell finishes up the notes I didn't even notice him taking, and then he gets out the book he'd been writing on. He opens up to one of those ambiguous ink blot pictures, and places it on the stand.

"What do you say you have a look at this? Tell me what you see."

"It looks like a chemical reaction."

He records my answer, and then goes to flip the page.

"Okay. How about this one?"

"I'm... embarrassed to say what it looks like."

He flips the page again.

"Last one."

"Uh, a mushroom cloud."

"Well, that's all she wrote. I don't have nothing to compare it to, so maybe you'd better have a look at the results. See if it seems alright to you."

He hands me his notes, and they seem about right. I turn them back over to him.

"Now, before I turn you loose I need one more thing from you. We got a form for you to fill out so I can get a sense of your medical history." Doc Mitchell says, giving me said form.

I fill out the form right quick, and fork it back over without another word.

"Alright, I guess that about does it. Come with me, I'll see you out."

Doc Mitchell escorts me to the door, and I notice a brown satchel is propped up beside it. The good doctor picks it up and hands it to me.

"Here. This is yours. Was all you had on you when you was brought in."

I take a moment to open up the bag and look through its contents, in case it has any clues as to who I am. The first things I see are a Vault 13 canteen, a teddy bear, and a note. I fish out the note first.

"I hope you don't mind, but I gave the note a look. I thought it might help me find a next of kin. But it was just something about a Platinum Chip."

I hear Doc Mitchell walk off, so I return to my search. I notice a side pocket, which I unzip. In it was another note, this time addressed to a Nina.  _I'm going to assume that's me_.

I hear footsteps coming back, so I stuff the note back into the bag.

"Well, if you're heading back out there, you ought to have this. They call it a Pip-Boy."

I hold out my arm, and let Doc Mitchell strap the thing on.

"I grew up in one of them Vaults they made before the war. We all got one. Ain't much use to me now, but you might want such a thing, after what you been through. I know what it's like, having something taken from you." He explains, handing me this vault suit once the Pip-Boy is secure.

"And put this on, too, so the locals don't pick on you for lacking modesty. Was my wife's. I think she was about your size, and she hardly wore it after we left the vault. Felt it was too brazen."

"I'll go change in there." I announce, pointing back towards where I woke up.

"Of course."

Once I've changed, I take out the Platinum Chip note. Apparently I had to deliver it to the Strip, or else I'll get criminal charges, and have mercs on my ass.

Well, shit. I guess that means I've got to get that package back, and it looks like checkered suit is my best bet. Maybe I can kill him afterwards.

"You all right in there?" Doc Mitchell calls from the other room.

"Yeah, I'll be right out." I call back, putting the note away before heading out to meet Doc Mitchell back at the entrance. He presents me with some sticks of dynamite, which triggers all kinds of fuzzy feelings, the kind one gets when reunited with an old friend.

"Thank you, Doc. Thanks for everything."

"Don't mention it. It's what I'm here for. You should talk to Sunny Smiles, before you leave town. She can help you learn to fend for yourself in the desert. She'll likely be at the saloon. I reckon some of the other folks at the saloon may be able to help you out, too. And the metal fella, Victor, who pulled you outta your grave. Anyway, you ever get hurt out there, you come right back. I'll fix you up. But try not to get killed anymore."

I have my hand on the knob when I remember something

"Oh, and Doc? I just found out. My name is Nina."

"A pleasure to meet you, Nina. You take care now."

  
The outside world greets me with harsh sunlight. I shield them before continuing down the hill. _The Doc said to swing by the saloon, which should be right over... Aha! Right there_.

"Howdy, partner! Might I say, you're looking fit as a fiddle."

I turn around to face a securitron. On the screen was a cowboy's face, and even the voice had that drawl. This must be Victor.

"Oh, hey. Thanks for saving me the other night."

"Don't mention it! I'm always ready to lend a helping hand to a stranger in need."

"How did you even find me?" I ask.

"I was out for a stroll that night when I heard the commotion up at the old bone orchard. Saw what looked like a couple of bad eggs, so I laid low. Once they'd run off, I dug you up to see if you were still kicking. Turns out, you were, so I hauled you off to the Doc right quick."

"Do you know who those men were?"

"Well, I can't say I'm familiar with the rascals. Some of the fine folks in town might be able to help you out with that."

"Well, fuck. Guess I gotta run over to the saloon then. Thanks again, Victor."

"Don't mention it."

I turn back around, making my way to the saloon. I open the door to the place, and I'm immediately greeted by a dog barking. However before it can come charging at me, a pretty Hispanic woman steps forward.

"Cheyenne, stay."

She turns back to me, smiling.

"Don't worry. She won't bite unless I tell her to. You must be the courier."

"That I am. The name's Nina."

I hold my hand out, which she takes.

"A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. Doc Mitchell said you could teach me to survive in the desert."

"Yeah, I guess there's a thing or two I could show you. Sounds like you need all the help you can get after what they done to you. Come follow me outside, and then we'll get started."

  
Turns out, I'm still decent at shooting. By the time I'm finished, all but one of those Sarsaparilla bottles Sunny had set up were knocked down.

"Well, that's a start. But I don't reckon you came to me to learn how to fight Sarsaparilla bottles. Tell you what. I gotta go chase geckos from our water supply anyway. Darn critters are attracted to it. Why don't you come along?"

"I need to work with a moving target anyways. So, sure."

"Great. Follow me. It's just down to the southeast a short ways." Sunny says, already heading in that particular direction. I fall in next to Cheyenne.

"Hey girl. Cheyenne, right?"

"Yeah." Sunny answers.

"She's beautiful."

"Found her as a puppy a few years back. Her mama died protecting her from a radscorpion, so I took her in. We've been sticking together ever since."

"I don't remember if I have any friends. I remember I got in a bar fight once. I also remember getting shot in the head, and that's why I can't remember anything else."

"It must be hard, having everything taken from you like that."

"It is, but I'll adjust."

I'd rather not have people pitying me more than they already do. And truly, I'll find a way to bounce back from this. In fact, that might be what I'll do once I've delivered the package and taken care of the man in the checkered suit; I'll figure out who I was before.

Sunny stops me. I fall in behind her.

"Hear that up on the ridge behind me there? We got some geckos to clear out. Bunch of little monsters is what they are. Seems like Doc Mitchell treats more gecko bites than anything else."

 _It's not like I'd be able to tell, considering that I'm still alive and shit_.

Sunny shushes me, and I realize that I'd spoken that thought aloud.

"Let's see if we can get a little closer. If we move quickly, we can get the jump on 'em. More likely to hit something vital that way."

We crouch, moving slowly around the ridge. I can hear the geckos clearly now.

"Okay, you're on. Give 'em hell!" Sunny pats me on the back, leaving me to fight the monsters.

I line the sights up with one of them, and fire. It hits, but not where I want it to. The commotion attracts its friend, who starts coming at me. I off the first one, but the friend almost gets to me before Cheyenne bites into him. She truly is a good girl.

When the dust clears, I reward her with scritches and praises. It's not until I look up do I notice Sunny has her hand out to help me up.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Looks like you're getting the hang of things. There are two more wells that need clearing. If you want, you can come along. It'd be worth a few caps to me."

It doesn't seem like a hard decision to me. I need the practice and I need the caps.

"Sure, why not?"

  
After clearing out a few more wells, rescuing a settler, and a lesson on how to make healing powder, Sunny sends me to go talk with Trudy. Apparently, Trudy has been dying to meet me, and she may know a thing or two about my attackers.

So that's where I go next.

I step back into the Prospector Saloon, only to be stopped in my tracks when I see this asshole here threatening a dark-haired lady.

"I'm done being nice. If you don't hand Ringo over soon, I'm gonna get my friends, then we're burning this town to the ground. Got it?"

"We'll keep that in mind. Now, if you're not going to buy something, get out."

The lady stares him down, until he turns tail and storms out of the saloon, shoving me aside on the way out.

Once the door slams shut, I make my way back to the bar. The lady is now standing behind it, cleaning an empty glass with a rag.

"Well, you've been causing quite a stir." She tells me. "Glad I finally got to meet you."

"I'm Nina."

We shake hands.

"Trudy. Welcome to Prospector Saloon. Can I get you anything?"

"Uh, yeah. Scotch please."

"You got it."

I count out my caps, and by the time I'm finished, Trudy has my drink on the table.

"There you go."

"Thank you."

I slip her the caps and take a swig.

"So, I overheard your conversation with asshat back there. What was that about?"

"Looks like our little town got dragged into the middle of something we don't want anything to do with." Trudy sighs.

"What happened specifically?" I ask.

"About a week ago, this trader, Ringo, comes into town. Survivor of an attack, he says. Bad men after him, needs a place to hide. We figured he was just in shock, so we gave him a place to lie low. We didn't actually expect anyone to come after him." Trudy explains as she starts to clean the countertop.

I take another swig.

"Where is he now?"

"He's holed up at the abandoned gas station up the hill."

"Well, what do you plan on doing with him?"

I don't put my glass down until Trudy has cleared up my section of the table.

"Some of the others, like Sunny, will probably stand up for Ringo if he asks for help, which he hasn't."

Trudy puts the now dirty rag away.

"Personally, I hope he sneaks out of town one night and takes the Powder Gangers with him."

I spit out some of my scotch.

"The fuck is a Powder Ganger?"

"Chain gangs, really. The NCR brought them in from California to work on the rail lines. Problem is, it turns out that giving convicts a bunch of dynamite and blasting powder isn't the best idea."

"Yeah, no shit." I scoff.

"Anyway, they made a big escape not too long ago. Some of 'em stuck together so they could make trouble. That's what we're dealing with now."

Scotch now drained, I push the glass back to Trudy.

"So, what would happen if, say, I helped Ringo out?"

"If you were able to help Ringo out of this mess, you'd have a decent reputation around Goodsprings. I'd even set you up with a discount." She says, taking the glass back. "Of course, helping Ringo would also make the Powder Gangers mad, and they've got a lot of friends out there."

"That's a price I'm willing to pay."

Considering all that the people of Goodsprings have done for me, I'd be happy to get them out of this mess, even if it meant dealing with dynamite-toting jackasses for the rest of my life. It's the least I could do for them, after saving my life.

Which reminds me.

"Oh! Before I forget, Sunny said you might know something about my attackers. What can you tell me about them?"

"Not much, other than they're a bunch of freeloaders expecting a few rounds on the house. I was able to get them to pay up, though. Of course, one of the Great Khans did knock my radio to the floor 'by accident', and it hasn't worked since."

_Great Khans. That's what they were._

"Did they mention anything about where they were going?"

"They were having some kind of argument about it, but the guy in the checkered coat kept shushing them. Sounded like they came from the north through Quarry Junction. If that's the case I can't say I blame them for not wanting to go back."

"Why is that?"

"The whole area's overrun with the kind of critters that just get mad if you shoot 'em. Merchants avoid that whole stretch of I-15 like it's radioactive. Which it could be for all I know."

"But to get back on the topic, where'd these guys say they were going?"

"I didn't hear exactly, but the leader was talking about the Strip. Fella wants to get there and avoid the 15, he'd have to go east. Take highway 93 up."

So now I have a route, a destination, and eternal gratitude for Trudy.

"Hey, Trudy. Want me to take a look at the broken radio?"

"Sure. The outside looks okay, but I think something broke on the inside. There'd be caps in it for you. I do like to hear what's going on in the world. And that Mr. New Vegas seems like such a gentleman."

I get out of my seat and come around to inspect the radio. A closer look reveals that several parts and connections had popped loose when the radio hit the floor.

Fortunately, it was nothing I couldn't fix.

I let out a triumphant 'ha' as soon as it's on and working.

True to her word, Trudy slips me fifty caps, with a warning to be careful out there.

"Thanks. I will." I reply before seeing myself out.

  
It's well into the evening by the time I emerge from the saloon. I look for the hill with the gas station, which doesn't take me long to locate.

I make my way up the hill, keeping an eye out for any potential threats. It looks I'm all clear, so I carry on.

I knock on the gas station door, and wait for three seconds before opening the door.

And once again, I'm staring down the barrel of a gun.

"That's close enough. Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

I throw my arms up in surrender.

"Listen, I'm not your enemy, so can you please get the gun out of my face?"

"Oh, sorry about that. You just caught me off guard, that's all." He says apologetically, putting the gun down. "We got off to a bad start. What do you say we start over with a friendly game of Caravan? You know how to play?"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but you do know Joe Cobb is on the lookout for you, right?"

"Yeah. He doesn't look tough, though. I hear he's afraid I'll shoot him down from one of the windows if I see him, and he's right. I'll have a much bigger problem once his friends show up. There's no way I could handle all of them in a gunfight."

"Well, what do you plan to do about the Powder Gangers?"

"I'm going to lay low for as long as I can, assuming the town doesn't throw me to the wolves. I've got no chance against the gang on my own."

"Maybe I can help."

"We'd just end up sharing the same grave if it's just the two of us. Now, if some of the other people in town were also on board..."


	2. Ghost Town Gunfight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD, this was a BITCH to write! But on the bright side, I think I'm slightly more satisfied with how this one turned out. It's still heavy with the dialogue, but hopefully the next chapter will be better.
> 
> If there is anything that I can do to make this story better, please let me know!

The plan to take out the Powder Gangers is simple- Get Sunny on board and see where we go from there. It's not much of a plan, but it's better than having the two of us charging at the whatever amount of Powder Gangers are out there.

Which brings me back to Prospector Saloon.

True to my assumptions, Sunny is here, chilling by the pool table with Cheyenne at her feet.

"Morning, Sunny!"

"Hi there. Sticking around Goodsprings awhile longer?"

"Actually, you remember Ringo, right? Yeah, I'm helping him take on the Powder Gangers, and we may need your help in order to do it."

"Say no more. I'm in. Joe Cobb talks about leaving us alone if we hand over Ringo, but I know his type. He and his friends will come after the town eventually. However, between you, me and Ringo, we aren't exactly a force to be reckoned with."

"What do you propose we do?"

"A lot of people around here look up to Trudy. If you could convince Trudy to join us, some of the folks in town might decide to help out as well. I know Easy Pete's got a stock of dynamite somewhere, and Chet just got a shipment of leather armor we could borrow. Talk to them as well.

"Finally, there's a good chance we'll all end up with extra holes in us, so if Doc Mitchell could cough up some extra stimpaks, that'd be great."

"I'll talk to Trudy and Easy Pete if you'll talk to Chet."

"Fair enough. You got yourself a deal." Sunny says, holding out her hand so we can shake on it.

"Thanks, Sunny. See you on the other side."

"I'll be waiting."

I give Cheyenne a few ear scritches before heading over to the bar. I take the same spot from yesterday and Trudy finishes up her conversation with another patron.

"Hey Nina. Feeling thirsty?"

"Sure am. Scotch please."

I hand Trudy the caps once the drink is in hand.

"So, you're planning on taking on Joe Cobb's gang. It's a big risk, but I suppose you have to do what you think is right."

"You should help me take out the powder gang. Bullets, explosions, lots of fun."

Trudy chuckles.

"I was planning on sitting this one out, but for some reason I can't help but like you. I'm with you. Let me have a word with a few other folks and I'll see if I can't round up some more members for this militia you're creating. While everyone does own a gun, we could stand to be a little better equipped. The general store probably has what we need in stock."

"Thanks, Trudy." I say, finishing my drink, and then slipping out of my chair.

"Don't mention it."

  
After managing to persuade Easy Pete into unearthing his dynamite, I find myself heading back to Doc Mitchell's for medical supplies. I knock on his door, and after thirty seconds of waiting, he opens up.

"Hey, Doc."

"Welcome back, Nina. Come on in."

He steps back, opening the door so I can do step in. It feels like it's been ages since I walked through his halls, even though it's only been a day in truth.

"I had hoped you wouldn't need to come see me again so soon. What can I do for you?" Doc Mitchell asks as we go back into his sitting room. We sit in the same spots as yesterday, but this time I'm the one asking the questions.

"The town is going to be attacked by bandits. Anything you can do to help?"

"Seems like wherever I go it's always the same. Folks just never leave each other alone." Doc Mitchell sighs. "I'm not much good in a fight, with my bum leg. And my supplies are scarce. But I'll give you what I can spare."

"We'll be using explosives. Do you have something for more serious injuries?"

"I ain't got much, but it'll do you more good out there than it will in here. Take what I got."

"Thanks, Doc." I say, throwing my arms around him.

"You're welcome, Nina. You take care now."

  
With medical supplies now in tow, I head on back to the gas station feeling a little more confident than before. With the numbers and supplies to back us up, we may possibly have a chance.

I knock on the door, same as yesterday, but this time, Ringo actually gets it.

"So, what's going on? Did Sunny agree to help us?"

"Sunny, and the rest of the town."

"Well, I guess that means we're ready to go. Unless you think there's something else you can do?"

I open my mouth to respond, but a knock at the door beats me to the punch. I go over to open it, revealing Sunny and Cheyenne.

"Time to look alive. The Powder Gangers are here to play."

"How many?" I ask Sunny.

"At least six, Joe Cobb included. They look pretty mean."

"Well, looking mean ain't going to save them from Nina's explosives."

"Speaking of explosives, Easy Pete came through with the dynamite. Here's your supply. I really hope I don't blow myself up."

"Well, you're doing good so far, considering you're still in one piece. On that note, let's get this shitshow on the road."

"All right, I'm ready. I hope." Ringo pipes in from his corner of the place.

"I'll be set up near the store. Let's hope that the gang doesn't manage to make it that far."

We move out, each taking our separate ways- Sunny takes the store, I take the saloon's rooftop, and Ringo takes the main road, where the Powder Gang's coming in.

I light the first stick of dynamite and throw it in the direction of a cleaver-toting Powder Ganger. It lands a couple feet away from him, throwing him off his feet. Cheyenne does the rest of the work. Another Powder Ganger sees this, and starts shooting at her.

"Oh _hell_  no." I shout at him, already lighting my second stick.

The guy turns his gun at me, but the dynamite is already flying. It lands right at his feet, taking him out of the game.

In the corner of my eye, I see Joe Cobb come at Ringo, and I try to light my third stick, but my hands fumble with the dynamite.

"Come on, come on, come on! _Fuck!_ __"

My heart almost stops when I hear the gunshot. But when I look down, it's Joe Cobb on the ground, thanks to Sunny's bullet. I nearly weep in relief.

Ringo beckons me to come back down, so I come around to the other side of the roof and slide off. Trudy helps me get back on the ground safely. Ringo and Sunny come around as well; I rush over to them.

"I owe you a huge favor for this." Ringo says, handing me a bag of what must be caps.

"Here- these are technically Crimson Caravan funds, but I know they'll understand once I explain things."

"It's no problem, Ringo. Thanks."

"I'll stick around for a bit longer, but I'll be gone in a few days. If you ever visit New Vegas, look me up at the Crimson Caravan camp."

"Could you at least find it in your heart to join little ole me for a celebratory drink?"

It doesn't take him long to consider it.

"Sure, why not?"

  
I decide to stay in Goodsprings for another day after the fight, not just to make sure everyone's been properly patched up, but also to stock up on what I need for the journey to Vegas.

I visit my grave on my last night. Sunny and Cheyenne tag along with me, eager to help with my investigation.

"Hey, Nina, you may want to take a look at this." Sunny calls out once she gets to the site. She squats down, collecting... something.

"What is it?" I ask as soon as I catch up to her... but then I see them.

They're cigarette butts.

Sunny dumps them into my hands; I stow them away in my bag. They'll probably come in handy later.

The rest of the search is fruitless. We go our separate ways, satisfied with the evidence that we've got.

I return to my cot feeling immensely more hopeful, now that I have solid proof against Checkered Suit. And who knows? Maybe Primm will have more to offer. But tonight, I'm satisfied with what I've got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Nina goes to Primm and reunites with a few old friends, and even makes a new one!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Up Next: Nina blows shit up. Literally.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
